


after sunset suffuses its vermilion

by ofermod



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Jedha, Jedi Training (Star Wars), Kyber Crystals, Lightsabers, M/M, Space food, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25754488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofermod/pseuds/ofermod
Summary: Bodhi never joins the Imperial Academy and the Jedhans successfully drive out the Imperials, so the Death Star never tests its deathly laser on the Holy City. After losing to Lord Vader, Luke comes to Jedha to build his own lightsaber and study the Force from the Jedhan archives. Then he meets Bodhi Rook...Based on a prompt frommissMHO.
Relationships: Bodhi Rook/Luke Skywalker, Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus
Comments: 16
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks for the prompt, beta reading, loads of awesome suggestions, and best cheer leading I could ask for to [missMHO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missMHO). This would have been such a mess without you!
> 
> I owe my love for this pairing to [i guess i'll know when i get there](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8910982/chapters/20414107) by [Eisoj5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisoj5/pseuds/Eisoj5).

_The Force is with me,_

_and I am one with the Force;_

_and I fear nothing,_

_because all is as the Force wills it._

—The Guardian’s Mantra, author unknown

From _Collected Poems, Prayers, and Meditations on the Force_ ,

Edited by Kozem Pel, Disciple of the Whills

***

“You're not ready yet. You still have much to learn. A lightsaber of your own construct you must. Essential part of Jedi training, it is,” entreats Yoda.

“I feel the Force,” Luke retorts. “I will do it, but I have to save them first.”

“But you cannot control it. This is a dangerous time for you, Luke. You are now most susceptible to the temptations of the dark side,” Ben Kenobi’s distant Force voice echoes among the trees.

“Feeling the Force, not enough is. Learn it, study it, you must. Contemplate it. Commune with others strong with it, our old mistakes repeat you must not.”

“I will go there,” Luke pleads, visibly more agitated and distressed from the vision. “I promise that, Master.”

***

And so Luke goes to help. He climbs into his X-wing and flies straight to Bespin, only to find a trap waiting for him there. After his nearly tragic encounter with Vader, he's even more resolved to keep his promise to Yoda and Ben. He has to go to Jedha, now the only place in the Galaxy, where he can study the Force in a way that wasn’t following the former Jedi Order’s methods and where he hopes he can find enough kyber to construct a new lightsaber. Originally, this was supposed to be just an exercise of skill—the construction of one’s own lightsaber is a part of every Jedi Knight’s training. Now, it's a pressing necessity, since Luke’s lightsaber—the one that belonged to his father—is lost somewhere in the Cloud City tunnels. _I’m not sure I would be able to use it, now that I know who he really was_ , Luke muses, flexing his prosthetic hand, as Artoo calculates the hyperlanes to the Jedha moon from the Rebellion rendezvous point at the _Redemption_.

***

“Welcome, Mister Skywalker, to the Jedha City spaceport. Enjoy your stay,” the space control officer in the main hangar smiles at Luke, handing him back his ID and scandocs.

The floor in the hangar bay is stone like every other structure in the city and around it. Worn down until smooth as glass by countless takeoffs and landings, droid wheels as well as feet of pilgrims, tourists, stormtroopers, and others who crossed it over the centuries. Luke watches the reflective surface of the hangar bay floor, transfixed by the reflected silhouettes of beings passing through the building. Artoo breaks him out of his musings with a quiet warble of admonishment about _organics needing sustenance_ , wheeling past him towards the entrance to the cantina. The only warm dish offered by the service droid at the counter is a soup with rehydrated noodles. _Definitely beats rations any time_ , thinks Luke as he slurps the nondescript broth and the occasional noodle.

Afterwards, they go outside, ignoring the entreating shouts of hover cab drivers. After the long journey in the cramped space of his X-wing cockpit, he needs to stretch his legs and—this _feels_ important and appropriate, somehow— _walk_ into the Holy City. To feel the dust and sand crunching under his boots. The moment he steps out in the open air, however, is when he becomes sure how much he underestimated his tolerance of Jedha’s cold climate and how unsuited his outfit is for the cold gusts of wind. Wearing his yellow flight jacket and pants, Luke makes a mental note to visit the local market soon, in hope of finding something much, much warmer than the change of garments he brought with him. His pilot’s suit won’t do at all, if he wants to stay incognito. _My old coat from Hoth is rotting somewhere in Yoda’s bog_ , he sighs to himself, suppressing another shiver and wrapping himself tighter with the thin jacket.

When still in hyperspace, Luke complained to Artoo that he never managed to find out anything more about Jedha beyond the two essential facts that it’s home of the Guardians of the Whills and kyber. At that, Artoo beeped mockingly that _it’s like cold Tatooine, but civilized._

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed, offended. But then he sagged against the backseat, sighing, “I guess that backwater sandball isn’t the pinnacle of civilisation, so I’ll give you that. Wait, what do you mean _cold_?”

And at Artoo’s vague explanation of Jedha’s climate, Luke mused, “How cold can it be, after Hoth?”

Right now, he's pretty sure the droid is laughing at him silently while enjoying his metal body that isn't affected by such trivial things as the weather.

***

The smells and colors of the main street assault Luke as he and Artoo pass under the stone arch and the increasing noise of the city envelops them. It feels fitting. Luke comes up to a stall with two Rodians behind the counter, selling different varieties of multicoloured utensils that may be kitchen appliances, but Luke isn’t entirely sure.

“Excuse me, which way to the Temple of the Kyber?” he asks them, hoping they will be able to help.

The road to the Temple turns out to be a long, but straight path from the stall. “The Pilgrims Walk, the Blessing Way, the Square of Stars,” says the taller Rodian. “Then you’ll see the Old Shadows wall, and the entrance is just around the corner.”

The sun begins to set as they approach the entrance in a high wall and Luke catalogues the destruction of the Temple clearly visible in the damaged facade and stairs. Signs of blaster fire and even heavier weaponry.

On top of the stairs to the entrance, with his face illuminated by the setting sun, sits a young human man with brown skin, a dark ponytail and beard. He’s clad in a pilot’s uniform. He’s propped against the wall, but clearly nodding off, completely unaware of his surroundings.

“Excuse me, sir,” Luke starts, tentatively, trying not to startle him. No reaction. “Sir?” He tries again, this time brushing a hand against the man’s sleeve. He jolts awake and immediately stands up, focusing his gaze on Luke. The man’s dark eyes glint with sunlight, taking Luke’s breath away for a second, long enough to miss his question.

“Huh?” is all Luke can muster, apparently.

“I said, can I help you?” the man replies, smiling broadly at Luke.

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke regains his composure. “I’m looking for the Guardians of the Whills? In the Temple of the Kyber?”

“You’ve uh—You’ve found just the place, then. Pilgrim?” He is smiling at Luke, which makes it harder to form coherent replies, apparently.

“In a manner of speaking. I’m Luke Skywalker,” he puts out his hand to pry the stranger’s name out of him.

“Bodhi Rook,” he shakes Luke’s hand, his palm warm and soft against Luke’s. _Definitely a pilot_. He follows Bodhi inside the Temple, leaving Artoo at the entrance. The stone floor of the hallway is as worn out as the almost glass-polished stone of the spaceport. The yard inside the Temple is as damaged as the outside facade, with pedestals devoid of any monuments in each of the four corners. The only things that don’t suggest the recent destruction are plants in giant terracotta pots and a gaggle of children of various species in the middle of the yard. The children are imitating the movements of a robed figure, all holding smaller versions of the instructor’s stick. At the sound of the two men approaching, the robed instructor turns towards the newcomers and strikes one end of the stick twice against the stone floor. The children stop their exercises.

“Bodhi?” he asks, although he doesn’t look directly at them. The children stand still, holding their tiny sticks in front of them, all their eyes fixed on the two newcomers.

“Brought you a pilgrim, Chirrut,” Bodhi tells him.

***

After all the proper introductions are made (“So it was you who blew up the rest of our kyber in that ghastly Death Star! Good job!” Chirrut says, at which Bodhi’s eyes widen comically), Bodhi salutes them both and excuses himself. Luke follows Chirrut—Chirrut Îmwe, the Guardian of the Whills—across the yard and inside again to his office. The space is as cozy as a room in an enormous, thousands-years-old temple can be. Manuscripts and leather-bound tomes line the shelves, stacked seemingly without much thought or order. The desk under the only window is strewn with datapads, some of them at dangerous angles in a heap. They sit down on the rug at a low table in the middle of the room. Chirrut brews them both some fresh tea in a metal teapot and pours it into two metal cups. Luke is very glad at the warmth of the liquid, tasting vastly different from the teas he’s had so far—Tatooine’s H'Kak bean tea and Yoda’s secret herb tea ( _good for you, it is, strong will it make you_ )—although the aftertaste reminds him more of caf than either of the two other teas.

“Master Îmwe,” Luke starts, pausing to take a sip. “I came on a spiritual pilgrimage here, but there’s more to it than just my spiritual journey, I must confess.” Chirrut raises an eyebrow at that. “I came to study the Force from you and I also—need to construct my own lightsaber to complete my Jedi training.”

Chirrut’s both eyebrows are now nearing his hairline. “Jedi? Thought all of you were long gone.”

“So did I, and yet—here I am,” Luke says, shrugging. There’s a gentle tap on the wooden door behind them. It’s Bodhi, glancing at Luke from the doorway.

“I, uh—I’m all set with the scandocs,” he says. “The crates are in the storage room, you’re good for a month or so.” He clears his throat. “I’ll be going now,” he says, smiling at Luke and stepping out without waiting for a reply.

Luke’s gaze lingers on the doorway for a moment, before his thoughts focus back on Chirrut’s monologue.

“—show you some of it. We’ll see about that new lightsaber, I know what you’re looking for, but it won’t be easy to get a hold of now, I’m afraid.”

“I heard about the occupation and the cost of it.”

“So you know that we blew up all the kyber mines on Jedha? And that there’s nothing left of it here in the Temple anymore? It was the first thing the Imperials carried out of this building.”

“I do, but—I was hoping there’s _some_ left.”

And there is, as it turns out, but it’s not as easily accessible as it used to be. Chirrut is very cryptic about it, but Luke allows himself to hope. He explains the instructions for his continued training and Chirrut lights up at the prospect of training—or at least helping to train—a future Jedi. Luke then suspiciously eyes Chirrut’s stick, propped against the wall next to him.

Their conversation then takes a less serious turn and they exchange observations about life on different desert worlds. As Chirrut laughs at the idea of frying a dewback egg on a scorching hot stone on Tatooine, there comes another gentle tap on the wooden door.

“Hi.” It’s Bodhi again. 

“Bodhi, back already?’ Chirrut asks. “I thought we were all set for at least a month.”

“Yeah, you are, it’s just that I forgot—my goggles.”

“Your goggles?” Chirrut asks, his eyebrows once again raised. “You never take them off.”

Before Bodhi can answer, Chirrut smirks and gestures at the teapot in front of him, “Why don’t you join us for tea before you go? And maybe have a look around for your goggles, checking your _own head_ first?” At that, Bodhi’s hands shoot up to pat his own forehead and, of course, the blasted goggles have been there all along. He locks eyes with Luke and all three burst into laughter.

Bodhi sits down with them and this time actually takes off his goggles, putting them on the table.

“May I?” Luke asks, pointing at the device. Bodhi nods and Luke—instead of reaching out and picking it up—looks at the goggles and they start to float a few centimeters above the table top.

Bodhi gazes at the levitating device, entranced, and elbows Chirrut. “He’s—levitating my goggles?”

“You should get a separate room for that,” Chirrut says, grinning brightly. Bodhi snorts and rolls his eyes at that.

Luke flushes bright pink and moves the goggles into his open palm, moves them around. “Torjeka-made? With night vision?” he asks Bodhi.

“Yeah. The stormtroopers didn’t, um—didn’t really need them anymore.” Bodhi shrugs, smiling lopsidedly at Luke. “Extremely handy for night cargo runs with the light-enhancing settings.”

Bodhi apparently knows his way around most of the things in Chirrut’s office. He makes them all another pot of tea and they have a long chat about the current state of things on Jedha. Luke thought he had had some idea about how the situation might look like from past experiences with worlds liberated from the Empire, but Chirrut and Bodhi’s tale of the insurgency and the absolute economic nightmare after the Empire left are beyond Luke’s imagination.

“We knew that by blowing up the Imperial-controlled kyber mines we were essentially sending up in smoke our only export commodity,” Bodhi says as he blows on the steaming cup, “not counting the spice and prayer. But all in all—”

“—it was still better than letting them slowly bleed us dry. It was a fifty-fifty bargain as far as long term survival was concerned,” Chirrut chips in. “We need to lay low with what’s left of the kyber, so keep it to yourself that there’s anything left.”

Bodhi nods vigorously. “There were three possible outcomes. If we had done nothing, the Imperials would have slowly bled us dry, yes. You and Baze made a deal with Saw, and there were two possible bad case scenarios: either quick death for all of us or prolonged suffering after an economic collapse. So—the fact that we haven’t yet starved to death is the best case scenario.”

“The final blow to the occupying garrisons was the coordinated effort of Partisans, miners, and what was left of the scattered Temple residents,” Bodhi continues. “Thankfully, kyber crystals are extremely prone to energy overloads. An arranged power failure in every Empire-controlled kyber mine, safety evacuation of miners, and—”

“Boom!” Chirrut chimes in, miming an explosion with his hands.

“Pity we couldn’t help,” Luke whispers, eyes unfocused. He straightens and adds, “But we can help now.”

“We might help each other, yes.” Chirrut smiles. “Now, Bodhi. You should take Luke out and show him the city.

Bodhi brightens at that. “I’ll need to move the bike then. See you outside in five?” he asks and Luke nods in response, grinning.

Chirrut rummages in one of the cabinets and takes out a dark red piece of cloth with two green-yellow stripes. It looks suspiciously dusty. “A traditional Jedhan poncho to keep you warm?” Chirrut offers the garment and Luke couldn’t be happier to finally stay warm, regardless of dust.

***

Bodhi’s waiting at the entrance to the Temple and upon seeing Luke stepping out of the doorway, he snorts.

“Kriff, Luke, did Chirrut take down one of his wall rugs from his office?” Bodhi asks.

Luke glances down on his poncho and makes a face at Bodhi. It does look a bit like the rugs from Chirrut’s office. “It’s either this or getting frostbite by the end of the evening.”

Bodhi then has the brilliant idea to start their walk at the New Market stalls where Luke can pick out something less _rug-like_. They walk a few blocks arm in arm, enjoying the evening bustle around them and the mingling smells of incense and fried dishes. Luke takes an enormous amount of time to choose a new poncho, making a huge mess out of the neatly stacked selection. He finally settles on a black knotting with an arrow-head-like golden pattern at the bottom. Bodhi gives him a thumbs-up in approval and they go around the Old City in slow circles until the streets empty out a bit, although never fall entirely quiet. The Holy City, especially the Old City district, never sleeps. Bodhi chatters away about the city, pointing at buildings as they pass them by.

“I wouldn’t know for shit, but if you ask someone more qualified, they’d probably tell you that this is a few hundreds or thousands years old. I think rumor has it that there was one structure here in the Old City that’s _hundreds of thousands_ of years old, but I couldn’t tell you which one. If you talk to Chirrut long enough, he’ll tell you that NiJedha is ‘a city made for hiding as much as it was a city built upon self-discovery’ or other such stuff, which is his standard line to all pilgrims and new disciples.” Bodhi looks up at Luke, who’s been staring at him intently, smiling. “Just tell me to shut up if I talk too much.”

“No, no, don’t stop,” Luke insists. “I can’t tell you anything remotely interesting about my own homeworld, unless you like stories about bull-eyeing womp rats from a skyhopper and the intricacies of moisture farming.”

***

Later that night when they part ways, Luke gets back to the Temple where Chirrut offered him a spare room in the pilgrim’s quarters. The Temple is already quiet, so Luke tip-toes into the room, the door panel hisses quietly as it closes behind him. The building is a harmonious combination of old and new, which is very fitting. The modern electronic fixtures in the newer and redesigned structure of the living quarters blend seamlessly with the old section of the Temple with the communal areas—for meditating, praying, studying, practicing—which are well-insulated, but mostly devoid of tech additions.

Artoo is already powered down for the night in the corner, his photoreceptor blinking slowly, indicative of a power-saving mode. Luke goes to spread out his bedrolls and opens up Chirrut’s datapad with Kozem Pel’s _Collected Poems, Prayers, and Meditations on the Force_. (“If you want to know more than the Jedi way of the Force, start with this book.”).

“—of poetry?” Luke mutters to himself. “Peace is a lie. / There is only Passion. / Through Passion I gain Strength. / Through Strength I gain Power. / Through Power I gain Victory. / Through Victory my chains are Broken. / The Force shall free me—oh, it’s Sith poetry? _The Code of the Sith_.” Luke’s thoughts drift to his fight with Vader again and to Yoda’s warnings. _There is darkness in me too, but is it there because of him? Or is it there because we all have some darkness in us?_ He thought about it a lot already while meditating in hyperspace on route to Jedha. The eternal question of nature versus nurture makes Luke’s head spin—he knows he won’t solve the oldest philosophical conundrum in the Galaxy in the course of one pilgrimage, but it keeps nagging at him nevertheless. Exhausted from the day’s events, Luke falls asleep with the lines of the Sith Code looping in his head and dreams of handsome cargo pilots wearing ridiculous ponchos.

***

Luke doesn’t see Bodhi for over a week, during which he gets to know each nook and cranny of the Temple, as he gets lost in the dark corridors more often that he’d like to admit. He hasn’t got any time to go outside of the Temple walls and explore the city any more for now, instead he passes his days meditating in the main hall with other pilgrims and disciples and reading anything Chirrut gives him. It took a good few years before people began trusting that Imperials won’t come back to Jedha and seal off the Temple again, detaining any devotees in the process. Even now, there are only two disciples permanently living in the Temple, K'asia—human with dark brown skin and black hair in bantu knots peeking out of their disciple hood—and Ramu—Duros with blue-green skin and red eyes, also clad in brown disciple’s robes, but with no trace of hair showing outside of his hood. All three talk a lot during meal times in the only communal space with a stove and cooling chamber.

“—you realize the Jedi were assholes, right?” K'asia says as they chew on the boiling hot goulash. Luke looks at them affronted and Ramu snorts, choking on his food. “Ask Chirrut or Baze, I think they’re old enough to at least have _met_ one at some point before the purge. It’s common knowledge among the elders over here that they were exceptional assholes, Luke. As an organisation, that is.”

They bicker over the course of the meal, Luke—half-heartedly—defending both of his masters without divulging any identifiable details about them, in case this reaches any imperial ears. No one knows anything about Luke’s training yet, especially not the whereabouts of the last Jedi Master in the Galaxy.

The other permanent residents of the Temple are the children who Luke met the day he arrived. A motley bunch of kids of various species, all orphans and survivors of the occupation. Luke sometimes sees them in the middle of a class taught in tandem by Kaya Gimm—a red-headed human—and a CZ-model tutor droid. The only person whom Luke has yet to meet is Baze Malbus and from what he’s heard about the man, Luke’s extremely excited to have a chance to spar with him.

At the end of the week, after days (and two nights) of poring over texts on the nature of the Force and ethics of Force-users as seen by various sects—Central Isopter, Night Sisters, Sisters of Sarrav, among others—Luke finally gets out of the Temple to see more of the city. While taking a stroll he ends up climbing to the tallest sector of the Old City to contemplate a poem from another collection he got from Chirrut, _The Jedha Book of Haiku_.

Thinking he’s alone, he reads aloud, “‘After sunset / suffuses its vermilion – / autumn dusk.’ Huh. It’s summer still, but sure feels like autumn to me.”

“Has Chirrut also given you his favorite book of haikus?” comes a familiar voice from behind Luke. Bodhi is climbing the last steps onto the viewing deck. Luke turns his head, chastising himself that he got sneaked upon. “Charming view, no?” says Bodhi, while looking Luke straight in the eyes.

_Stars, he’s flirting with me. Isn’t he?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Kriff, was it too corny?_ Bodhi’s heart skips a beat as he approaches Luke on the bench. He’s wearing the same black-gold poncho from the Market.

“Promise I’m not stalking you. You happened to find my favorite spot to watch the sunset after cargo runs.”

Luke smirks at that and says, “It’s just the one sun, but it will do. Especially from this place.”

“How many suns does Tatooine have?” Bodhi asks, looking at him quizzically.

“Two.”

“Excessive,” Bodhi replies, glancing at Luke. “But if you have more than a glass of Gesh’s reserve whiskey from under the counter, you’re going to see two sunsets all right.”

Luke bursts out laughing at that and Bodhi’s stomach gets tied in a knot at the sound. He hopes he’ll get more of it from Luke. “I always come here to watch ships land and take off against the sun,” Bodhi says, pointing at the dark speck in the sky over the line of buildings lifting off from LZ-Cresh. “They look like dust flying off into space.”

“Almost makes you forget that it’s a cargo shuttle or a transport, sometimes with a few tons of load. Looks like nothing,” Luke remarks, staring downwards at the landing zone.

They sit in companionable silence for a few beats, watching the golden-orange hues in the sky, slowly turning vermillion.

***

Bodhi’s days are filled with cargo runs and—when those are slow—courier runs for Denic’s jobs from her Garage. Most clients pick up small stuff like their fixed comlinks or heating coils, but for larger appliances or heavy stationary droids, Bodhi picks them on his speeder bike and delivers them all over Jedha City. Now, he’s helping fix somebody’s badly scorched motivator, but with his mind’s eye he’s still seeing Luke’s golden hair glimmering in the setting sun and his eyes crinkled with laughter—

“Denic to Bodhi, do you copy?” she interrupts Bodhi’s daydreaming, nodding at his attempt to tighten a nut on the motivator. “Is that a fork?”

He drops the fork and picks up the wrench instead, ignoring the question. Denic looks at him searchingly, narrowing her eyes, “Something on your mind? Or maybe someone?” She’s smirking and puts down a cup of caf in front of Bodhi. Denic’s nosy, but it’s all right, she’s family—like Ahm, like the Guardians. Family—maybe not by blood, but by choice.

“Future of the Galaxy, as usual, what else could it be?” Bodhi replies sarcastically, not wanting to jinx something that may even not be there yet.

“Bring Mr Future here to say hi, then,” she says, making finger guns at Bodhi.

“Hilarious, Denic,” he says, downing the lukewarm caf in one gulp.

“You’ve been here all afternoon, now go away and enjoy life a bit.” So he goes.

***

He takes the speeder bike and meanders through the alleyways until he reaches the familiar gargantuan wall of the Temple. There’s no delivery or anything job-related that brought him there, except hope that he may run into Luke and steal him for the evening.

Bodhi walks into the yard, but stops dead in his tracks at the sight before him. All the Temple’s residents are gathered there, surrounding the open-air cobbled square in the middle, so Bodhi comes up closer, his curiosity piqued. Before he can ask the nearest person what’s going on, there’s a flurry of movement on the square and a dark-clad figure jumps straight up at least ten feet high. It’s Luke—and Bodhi watches, mesmerized as the Jedi perches on the small roof of the yard gallery, jumps off, makes a double somersault and—

“Ooh! He didn’t move even a bit!” squeaks a tiny Twi’lek child next to Bodhi, who now has the full view of the sparring match between Luke and Baze Malbus unfolding before him in the yard. Luke has just kicked the Guardian straight on the arm, raised in a blocking position. It’s clear that Luke is already pretty winded and Baze hasn’t even broken a sweat, his moves mostly on the defensive. Bodhi gulps.

K'asia, to Bodhi’s right, is narrating their every movement to the smirking Chirrut. “Luke’s very fast, but it’s not going to be enough, he’s—ow, Baze just tripped him. Aaand now your man is on Luke with his full weight, that’s it.”

Bodhi watches as Baze takes out his hand to Luke on the ground. He gets up and they bow to each other and then to the cheering crowd. People start to disperse, getting back to their previous activities and the yard slowly empties, with only Baze and Luke lingering and talking animatedly in hushed voices. Bodhi keeps his distance, not wanting to interrupt, but Luke spots him right-away and beckons him to join them.

“You could have Force-pushed Baze and finished the match in five seconds,” Bodhi says, flashing Luke a grin.

“We agreed on a ‘no Force’ match to even the chances. No pushing, choking, or other unsavory moves,’ Baze butts in, his jovial voice rumbling in the stone yard.

 _Choking?_ Bodhi thinks, horrified. 

“With your skills, Force _would have_ evened the chances,” says Bodhi, pointing a finger at Baze. Luke starts to protest, but before he says anything, Bodhi carries on, “Do you have plans for tonight?” He suddenly has a brilliant idea.

“I—huh?” Luke is taken aback at the abrupt change of topic for a split second. Baze is smirking and pats Luke on the back, as he turns away to get back into the Temple. Luke composes himself and says, “What did you have in mind?”

“A race, if you’re not too winded,” Bodhi challenges, crossing his arms.”‘Race you to the spaceport, winner buys caf.”

“Deal.”

They go out of the Temple, Luke refreshed himself a bit after the match and now looks like he was lounging all afternoon instead running around trying to hit Baze Malbus for half an hour. Bodhi turns on the speeder engine and the repulsors start a quiet rumble.

“Bodhi, I don’t have a bike!” Luke says.

“Yeah, _I_ have a bike to even the chances with _your_ Jedi skills,” Bodhi replies, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

Luke narrows his eyes at that. “Alright, you’re on,” he says and starts the countdown. On Luke’s _Go!_ they start, but—to Bodhi’s confusion—Luke doesn’t run straight ahead. Instead, he runs _up_ the Temple wall and somersaults onto the roof of the building across the alley. Bodhi’s mind snaps back into the present and he rolls on the throttle to move the bike into motion. He’s picking out streets and alleys off the main tourist and pilgrim track to gain more speed. Occasionally, he looks up and sees Luke jumping across narrow alleyways from rooftop to rooftop and Bodhi’s heart gives a lurch at the fluid, graceful movement of the other man. He narrowly misses a garbage droid, reversing into the street and gets a streak of rude binary barked at him for that.

“Come on, come on, come on!” Luke shouts mid-jump from the small balcony on the building to Bodhi’s right, swinging on the laundry lines.

They arrive before the spaceport archway at the exact same moment, Luke panting but laughing at the ridiculousness of this race.

“It’s a draw, but the caf is on me since it was my idea,” Bodhi says, as he makes room on the speeder seat behind him for Luke. “Hop on, we’re going to Gesh’s.”

***

Luke is ecstatic at the idea of spiced caf.

“I don’t know how we never thought about it back on Tatooine, or maybe someone has but I never got to try it,” he says, blowing on the warm caf in the cup, before he takes another sip. “And rebellion caf is not that different from engine oil, so this is _mind-blowing_.”

Bodhi grimaces at the thought. “I once drank engine oil by accident in my auntie’s garage. I had so little sleep on that day that I didn’t even notice it at first.” Gesh comes over to their table and puts down a plate with fresh baklava, winking at Bodhi. Luke immediately grabs one and stuffs it into his mouth, but his eyes widen right away—

“Those were spice nuts on top, I was about to warn you—” Bodhi gives him a glass of fermented bantha milk from the tray and Luke grabs it unquestioningly. “—and suggest eating the peanut-sprinkled one here. This is what happens when farm-boys get adventurous.”

“I couldn’t say no to that sweet beauty.” There are tears in Luke’s eyes. “Maybe, uh—later,” Luke says, between coughs. “Serves me well for my impatience, but in my defense, I was pretty hungry after that run. So,” he eyes Bodhi eagerly, “last time, I forgot to ask you about your ship.”

‘It’s not exactly mine, but Ahm—my auncle—at least once a week says that they’re retiring the next day and the company’s all mine to run now.” Bodhi shakes his head. “It’s a Zeta-class shuttle, st—I mean, _reappropriated_ after the Imperials left.”

“Did you learn how to fly it at the Academy?”

“Stars, no,” Bodhi laughs. “I was this close,” he holds up his thumb and index finger so that they're almost touching, “to enlisting, but thankfully my family talked me out of it. I was very bitter and angry at everything when my mother died and going to the Academy would have been one of those reckless things you do when grieving. Ahm and Denic—my auntie—were so mad at me for even considering not learning to fly from _them_.”

“I always dreamed about going away to the Academy,” Luke muses, his eyes growing unfocused. “And then, well, I had to actually go away because there was nothing left for me there. You could say it was that reckless thing done out of grief but there _actually_ was nothing there anymore to keep me there.” He shrugs.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t find anything here if I ever came back,” Bodhi admits quietly. He thinks about the explosions and ‘troopers opening fire in broad daylight. About monks and disciples disappearing.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Luke braves the last baklava square—the one with peanuts on top—and brightens, “You were right, this one isn’t lethal.”

***

It’s been a month since Bodhi met Luke at the entrance to the Temple. By now, they almost have an unspoken routine. Bodhi usually comes over to take Luke somewhere or sometimes he is already at the viewing deck—waiting?—when Bodhi comes up at the end of his shift or delivery run.

One evening at Gesh’s, Luke grabs Bodhi’s comlink after a client called to complain about a faulty delivery. With a cheeky grin, Luke keys in his com code, insisting that it was ridiculous he didn’t do it earlier. The thing is, Bodhi knows that Luke is going to leave at some point, and exchanging com codes was dangerously close to becoming _involved_ with someone who was bound to break his heart by simply going away. Without that last link, Bodhi could keep telling himself that he wasn’t slowly falling for this impossible Jedi.

“—no idea there were so many! I knew from my Master about a few sects, but this is something else—” Luke stops abruptly, listening intently to the sudden hum coming from the outside. It’s raining, which is a rare occurrence in a desert world like this, so there’s a general commotion. People gather near the doorway, some even go outside and stretch their arms in delight. Luke leaves a few credit chips on the table and grabs Bodhi’s hand, tugging him to go outside as well. They sidestep people gawking at the rain from the safety of the cafe and step into the downpour.

“I see you’re eager to be both cold _and_ wet,” Bodhi says, already wiping the droplets out of his eyes. Jedha’s rains are rare but rather violent and this one is no exception.

“Force is like the water, whether you see it clearly or not,” Luke says with a solemn face, clearly quoting some piece of wisdom from Chirrut’s book. The solemnity of the statement is somewhat diminished by the fact that at this point Luke’s fringe is plastered to his forehead and covers his eyes.

“This doesn’t mean the Force is _in_ the water, though!” Bodhi replies, but eagerly follows Luke.

“For most of my life, rain has been little more than a concept, so screw being afraid of getting wet!” Luke shouts into the street, twirling Bodhi around and laughing joyously. Someone wolf whistles at them from a balcony above. At that, Luke tugs at Bodhi’s hand and runs into a nearby alleyway. It’s a narrow and quiet one, so only the steady tap-tap-tap of heavy droplets accompanies them there. Bodhi spots a small marquee and walks them both there to avoid getting soaked even further.

Bodhi’s eyes roam Luke’s slender figure illuminated by the single alley light overhead. His eyes are closed, but he shivers in the cool air. Without thinking, Bodhi takes off his spacer jacket and puts it over Luke’s shoulders. He opens his eyes and stares intently into Bodhi’s. _In for a credit_ , thinks Bodhi. He raises his hand to gently caress Luke’s rain-wet cheek.

For a second, Bodhi’s insides freeze because Luke doesn’t move, just stands still with his lips parted. He’s sure he’s read too much into it and starts to withdraw his hand, ready to take a step back and apologize—

—when Luke kisses him—his lips are a bit cold, but soft and eager and Bodhi reciprocates almost immediately, his brain falling back into gear. With his other hand, Bodhi cradles Luke’s neck and deepens the kiss, eliciting a stifled moan from the other man.

“Thank the _Force_ ,” Luke sighs as they part and rests his forehead against Bodhi’s.

Bodhi lets out a chuckle and kisses Luke again.

***

Over the next few days, Luke is busy with research and meditation, so Bodhi’s highlight of the day is his comlink signaling an incoming call from Luke. Every time Bodhi keys in the button to accept the call, his heart speeds up, impatient to hear the latest piece of wisdom—or folly—that the Force users and scholars wrote down in verse and prose. According to Luke, if you dig deep enough in old archives, particularly the non-digitized manuscripts and tomes (“Especially in primary sources, instead of edited anthologies,” Luke insists), you’ll find things like margin notes laying a—very much fake—curse on the reader or tip-yip footprints over entire pages.

Luke’s voice sounds tinny through the com speaker. “In the _On the lives of Central Isopters_ , there’s this margin note: “If any person steals this book, / He shall be hanged by a hook.” And then—” Luke pauses, “underneath, someone else added: “or by the neck with a rope.”

“Does the tome have a hidden tracker somewhere?” Bodhi asks, poring over a broken motherboard of a baker droid.

“If it ever did, the malevolent party has long since become one with the Force.”

Apparently, Ramu is also extremely fond of these hidden gems and at one point called himself “a connoisseur of galactic folly,” which Luke relates to Bodhi with great enthusiasm.

They fall into a pleasant routine with these calls in the few days they don’t see each other. Bodhi often catches himself thinking back to the evening when they kissed for the first—and so far, to Bodhi’s endless frustration—only time. It more often than not leads to a subsequent _Ow!_ and a hand singed with the hot soldering iron whilst working on something in the Garage. The voice of reason in his head, which sounds suspiciously like his mother, tells him that he’s on borrowed time anyway and Luke’s going to leave soon.

***

At some point, Bodhi comes back to the Temple with another supply run. He runs into Luke on the way from the pantry, where he left the crates with provisions. Luke’s going somewhere without looking away from his datapad, muttering to himself. Bodhi spots him and doesn’t walk into Luke only because his face is illuminated in the dark corridor with the light coming from the datapad. Bodhi approaches him and Luke lifts his gaze from the screen, immediately breaking into a wide grin.

“Did you trust the Force wouldn’t let you trip over something in the dark?” Bodhi says in lieu of a hello, flashing Luke a wry smile.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Luke replies completely deadpan, coming up to Bodhi.

“Copy that, Mr Jedi, sir.” Bodhi nods and tries to keep a straight face, but fails miserably and they both burst into giggles.

There’s a moment of hesitation as they stand in the dim corridor, only faintly illuminated at the end with the sunlight creeping through the door left ajar. Before the moment turns into awkwardness, Bodhi makes a decision. He steps into Luke’s personal space and kisses him. It’s chase and closed mouth at first, but after a beat Luke opens his lips and it turns as heated as the last time. When they separate, Bodhi looks around, checking if there are any scandalized bystanders, but thankfully, no one but them is here.

“Hi,” Luke says, his eyes glinting with mischief and joy.

“Hi yourself,” Bodhi replies, suspecting there’s an equally goofy expression on his face. “Are you free today?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Luke says.

Bodhi beams. “Do you want to fly with me?” he asks.

***

As they approach Bodhi’s shuttle in the main hangar at the spaceport, Luke lets out a whistle. They climb up the ramp and Luke remarks, “Never been in one of those before.”

“Glad to be a first then.” Bodhi catches Luke’s eyes then. “Want to co-pilot?”

He nods and immediately sits down in the co-pilot’s seat. Bodhi—a bit self-consciously—goes over the pre-flight sequence and after the clearance from flight control, they lift off. The sun is starting to set and the cockpit is awash with warm light. Bodhi glints at Luke next to him and the way light catches in his golden hair gives Bodhi a warm and fuzzy feeling. Luke once told him that, according to his Jedi Master, “we are all luminous beings,” and in that moment, Bodhi believes that whole-heartedly.

“I’d take you for a ride in my X-wing, but there’s only one seat and I couldn’t pilot it with you in my lap,” Luke breaks Bodhi from his musings.

Bodhi’s face heats up at the mental image of being in such close proximity—intertwined almost—with Luke. “I’d sit very still,” he replies, flashing Luke a quick grin.

He would very much like to continue that subject and see where it led them but they’re approaching the destination and he has to focus on finding a suitable landing spot. They’re nearing the desiccated tablelands where Bodhi knows to be a stable landing ground and a good spot to stargaze. It’s a wide plain of massive messas instead of unsteady sands.

Once they touch down, the last rays of sunshine are still faint over the horizon. They flew to the west, as though chasing the sun to enjoy the dying embers of daylight far away from civilisation. Outside, Bodhi spreads out blankets and takes out a thermos flask with chav tea. Luke wraps himself tightly in one of the blankets and gladly takes a cup from Bodhi.

“It’s so peaceful here, I could almost forget that there’s a war going on out there,” Luke whispers, taking his eyes off the sky above as Bodhi settles down next to him with his own cup and blanket nest.

“Don’t your rebels miss you?” Bodhi deliberately doesn’t say “need”, desperately avoiding hearing an answer to that.

“I guess they do.” Luke is gazing up. “But they managed without me for three months before and there’s still stuff left for me to do here.” He pauses and looks at Bodhi. “Some things can’t be rushed.”

After a few beats, Bodhi asks, “Do you think you can win this war?” There’s a lump in his throat at the thought of other worlds like Jedha, slowly strangled by the Empire. Before Luke appeared, he was sure staying on Jedha was enough because they had saved their home and there was still much work needed to keep it alive. But now, he feels there’s even more to do out there—

“I can only hope,” Luke says softly with his cheek resting on his drawn up knees.

***

They sat there under the stars and talked for quite a while. About the Alliance and the Empire, about Jedha and Tatooine, about ships and speeders, and about all the mundane things in between. Bodhi is apologetic about having to leave early (“I’ve got a morning run for supplies to Takodana.”) and they lift off for Jedha City. Even though Bodhi is back home late, he can’t fall asleep for a long time. He tosses and turns most of what is left of the night, chewing on what Luke told him about the war. He experienced a lot of the fight first hand, literally in his own backyard and felt sick at a mere thought of going through any of it ever again. But at the same time, his thoughts keep circling back to Luke talking about entire worlds liberated from the Empire. And something less heroic and selfless occurs to him as Bodhi muses, _I want to see Luke fly_. He told Bodhi he’s not a squadron commander anymore, but Bodhi’s sure he could get a chance to see him doing reckless things with his X-wing.

Then he’s imagining Luke leaving. Himself doing the same routine every day. Cargo run, unpack, load to the bike, deliver, unload, load again, deliver, unload—

—fixing people’s droids, comlinks, navicomputers, poring over nuts and bolts in them—

And Luke—

—Luke will be out there—

—risking his _life_ —

And then it hits him like an avian flying into a shuttle viewport.

_Oh._

_Stars, I’m in love with him._

***

When he gets up before dawn after maybe an hour of sleep, he knows this will be a long and tedious flight. In the hangar, Ahm is already there at 0600 sharp. They’re propped against the deployed ramp actuator and sipping from a steaming caf mug, their second pair of arms crossed over their torso. Bodhi hopes the other mug in their fourth hand is for him. Fourteen hours in hyperspace with Ahm chattering away and thinking about Luke’s warm arm around his back is already giving him a stronger headache than sleep deprivation alone would have. Particularly after the revelation he’s had the night before.

“Up all night with your sweetheart?” Ahm’s voice is rough in Bodhi’s ears.

“I wish, Ahm,” he sighs and gladly accepts the offered mug. Ahm doesn’t push it. _Yet_ , Bodhi thinks.

When the stars turn into streaks as they leave realspace, Bodhi sits back in the pilot chair and exhales. He may as well get to it right away before he can give himself an ulcer by spending the entire fourteen-hour flight overthinking his life and choices.

“Ahm, do you ever think about the Alliance?” Bodhi blurts out before he can chicken out.

“All the time.” They give Bodhi a sideways glance and get back to swirling the rest of their caf in the mug. “Especially why they never came and helped us.”

“Luke says they were in bad shape then. Things picked up after the Death Star.”

Ahm shrugs and murmurs, “So, what’s all this war talk, kid? You want to join up or what?”

Bodhi straightens up at that, caught out and at a loss how to proceed. He takes off his goggles and turns them over in his hands, avoiding Ahm’s gaze. “What if I did?” Bodhi ventures, grasping and squeezing the controls, even though there’s no need for it in hyperspace.

“I’d tell you that we’ll all be waiting for you here. The shuttle won’t go anywhere, Denic and I will be here. Your mother would want you to go, she’d be proud. You can go and be a hero,” Ahm raises their bushy eyebrows and flashes him a wry grin. “You thought I’d yell at you?”

 _Luke’s a hero, I’m just a pilot_ , Bodhi thinks to himself. He hums noncommittally, still mulling over what Ahm just told him, about what his mum would have said. He expected a lot more disappointment, maybe being guilt-tripped into staying.

“If I’d been younger, I’d want to go myself. Especially if I had got myself a handsome young rebel,” Ahm goes on, pretending they’re oblivious to Bodhi’s existential crisis. “You should bring him over for dinner some time, kid.”

“You know what,” Bodhi says and raises his head, shooting Ahm a hopeful look. “I will. Thanks, Ahm.”

“Any time, kid. Any time.”


	3. Chapter 3

Luke is sitting in one of the upper sections of the Temple, closed off for the general public and even some of the residents (the children). He’s sitting at a console, a few tomes and his datapad are laid out nearby. He’s supposed to finish researching lightsaber materials and crosscheck all parts and their specs, but his mind is circling back to the desert the night before—

He shakes his head, pulling himself back into his search at the console. The cursor is ticking in the search bar at the end of the phrase “Durasteel chromium melting temperatures,” but he’s yet to hit “search”. _I’ve been doing my absolute worst to finish my final task quickly, how long can I stretch this?_

Leia hasn’t yet reached out with any news about Han, so they must still be searching. Luke shakes his head and gets back to trying to finish compiling all the specs before he falls asleep at the console.

***

Next day, he’s back in the same room, this time meditating on a poem from Chirrut’s collection. It’s nearing midday, judging by the position of the sun as he peeks through the dusty transparisteel of the window.

There are light footsteps in the outside corridor and a moment later, the door hisses as it opens to let K'asia into the room. Luke sends a weary smile their way.

“Chirrut told me to check if you fell asleep. Your com’s off,” K'asia says, panting a bit from exertion. They must have ran upstairs instead of using the turbolift. Almost everyone in the Temple does it, if their limbs allow them to (“Excellent exercise, keeps us all in good shape,” is what Chirrut mentioned multiple times to Luke as they jogged upstairs to meditate on the roof).

“I was about to go downstairs and pester him about today’s poem,” Luke admits sheepishly, putting away the datapad. “The moment between breaths / Is the balance of the Force. / Between life and death. / Rest and action. / Serenity and passion. / Hope and despair,” he recites from memory, eyes going half-lidded. He looks back up at K'asia and says, “I wonder what’s _his_ take on the whole ‘balance’ thing.”

“Ah, that’s from Nartum Trecim, a true Force ontology classic.” They nod solemnly. “Want to grab a bite on your way to Chirrut?”

“I’d love to.”

***

Later that day, Chirrut takes Luke to the very top of the Temple to meditate, but evidently neither Luke’s mind nor heart are in it because he just breathes in the frigid air and contemplates the cityscape. The rise and fall of each sector, the shapes of buildings—the domes, squares, cylinders, and the occasional spire are pleasantly lulling Luke’s mind into a peaceful humm.

“Master Îmwe,” he breaks the silence as his gaze is once more drawn to the two tallest constructions that stand out from others, leaping towards the sky like needles. “What’s in the two spires? The tallest ones? They look a bit different from everything else in the City.”

Chirrut huffs out a laugh. “Mostly hieroglyphics and other wall art, some statues. All of them of gargantuan proportions. Almost no one in the Galaxy remembers the people who built them, but they—the ancient Zeffonians—used to be a proud civilisation, strong in the Force. I happen to know this because a Jedi I once knew came here to research the twin structures and then told me all about his finding, the incorrigible chatterbox that he was.”

The Guardian then goes into a long and detailed story of Master Eno Cordova and his studies on the Zeffo culture, all the travels he made to chase the known remnants of these long-forgotten people. Luke’s utterly enchanted, mostly at the thought of another Jedi long gone, and makes a mental note to try to get into one of the spires to see if the Zeffo art can speak to him through the Force. 

“—with Bodhi.” The name breaks through Luke’s reverie. “Right?” inquires Chirrut.

“Huh?” Luke says, intelligently.

At that, Chirrut pokes him in the back with his stick. “I said, you’ll have to go with Bodhi to find a kyber shard for your lightsaber. He can take you there.”

***

After a few days, when Luke finishes compiling specs for his new lightsaber and when Bodhi’s done with his post-supply flight deliveries—they finally have an afternoon to themselves. This time Luke comes over to Bodhi’s apartment to pick him up, so that they can head together to the New Market. When Bodhi lets him in, he’s got a spoon in his mouth and looks generally dishevelled.

He takes out the spoon and says, “I just got up from a nap, so um—I’m still not entirely sure which year it is, but come in.”

Luke steps over the threshold and the door irises closed behind him. “It’s still 3 ABY,” Luke supplies. “As far as I know.”

Bodhi rolls his eyes but kisses Luke’s cheek. “Come and meet Ahm, we’re about to have an early dinner,” he says and motions Luke into one of the rooms.

A grey-skinned Latero is sitting at a small table, engrossed in something on their datapad. When they notice the guest, they hop off the high stool and put out one of their four hands for Luke to shake. “Well, well. Delighted to meet the dashing rebel,” they wink at Luke, who sends Bodhi an amused grin.

“Pleasure to meet Bodhi’s favourite auncle,” Luke says.

Ahm guffaws at that. “Bodhi’s only auncle, but I’ll take it.”

Luke sits down at the table with Ahm and they watch Bodhi stir the pot with the red gourd soup. He hopes it’s not going to incinerate his taste buds as he eyes the jar with chilli flakes on the counter next to Bodhi.

His fear probably registers on his face because Ahm leans in to Luke and whispers conspiratorially, “In this house, none of the shared meals are spicy, so don’t sweat. I'm not particularly fond of good food hurting my mouth.”

Luke exhales, relieved, and they both chuckle.

***

After dinner, they head to the New Market as planned. While Bodhi is buying fresh meiloorun fruit, Luke's standing a few steps away, leaning against a wall and quietly admiring the way Bodhi laughs at something the fruit vendor says. He’s appreciating how Bodhi throws his head back in laughter as he’s taking the bag from the vendor, how he’s grinning at Luke when he’s walking towards him, his eyes crinkling. _Stars, I’m in love with him—_

“Before you protest that these have gone bad—they absolutely haven’t. The purple rind is a variant,” Bodhi says, holding up an oval fruit with small horn-like protrusions. Luke is still having a major revelation, but his brain promptly kicks back into gear and instead of spiraling into a breakdown in the middle of a busy New Market alley, he comes up to Bodhi and kisses him soundly. He’ll have to unpack it all later.

“Sweet,” Luke says, his heart beating faster from the kiss and from the realisation.

They stroll around the Market, pointing at various things in the stalls. Bodhi talks about the supplies he’s brought from Takodana and complains about the prices going up in the current unstable economy. Then, they walk past a tapcafe and Luke excitedly lists various fruit-based beverages available in Mos Eisley.

They stop at the Square of Stars and sit on a bench in the shade of a giant tree with gnarled branches and pink leaves. They eat the fruit through the cut off top with the disposable spoons the vendor gave them. The flavor is the right combination of sweet and sour for it to be refreshing. Luke puts down the empty meiloorun rind.

“So, Chirrut told me that you can take me to the Catacombs?” He starts and Bodhi furrows his eyebrows, slow to catch up. “For my—” he makes a buzzing noise and mimes waving a lightsaber, also avoiding the word “kyber” in public. Anyone could be listening.

Bodhi’s face lights up in comprehension. “I could drive there with my eyes closed, I made that run so many times, mostly under cover of dark.” He shrugs. “We hauled the explosives for the mines, from Saw’s weapons stash—” Bodhi lowers his voice to a whisper, “now it’s a warehouse for you-know-what.”

“It’s a date then?” Luke asks.

“It’s a date.” Bodhi nods, taking Luke’s hand in his.

***

Back in the pilgrim quarters, Luke’s lying on his bedroll and staring at the ceiling. Now with nothing to keep him occupied after the evening meal and meditation, his thoughts are immediately back to his earlier realisation. Artoo rolls up next to him, listening to Luke thinking aloud. Earlier, as Luke switched the droid on, he was greeted with an angry warble at being left here unpowered all these weeks. Now Luke is using Artoo as his sounding board for the approaching crisis when he’ll have to leave Jedha and _leave Bodhi behind—and—_

Artoo chirps at Luke, _don’t worry you can see him when you have leave next time in three years_.

Luke groans as he reads the transliterated Aurebesh in Artoo’s holoprojection. “Thanks, Artoo. Really helpful.”

***

Before they parted, Bodhi suggested meeting at the Garage for their “Catacombs date”, so Luke can have a look at some metal scraps he could use for the emitter, switch, and sleeve. Denic is there, tinkering with something at the workbench and Luke notices how her short red hair and pale skin are all dotted with oil, as though something exploded shortly before they arrived.

She’s ecstatic at the opportunity to finally meet “Bodhi’s handsome young man”. Luke blushes at that and glances at Bodhi, his eyebrows raised.

“All true, no?” Bodhi replies without missing a beat.

Denic appears to have forgotten all about her work for the day and showers Luke with questions—about his homeworld, his X-wing, and his piloting experience. Luke is more than happy to talk shop with a fellow pilot.

“Bodhi tells me you talked him out of joining the Academy,” Luke says to Denic.

“And saved him from losing his natural flair!” she gestures animatedly at Bodhi who is suddenly very interested in the state of his fingernails. Denic takes off her goggles—the same model as Bodhi’s—and accidentally smears oil over her cheek. “All those imperial protocols and drills would have turned him into a scrub with no passion under his wings,” she shakes her head at that, apparently having strong opinions about imperial pilot training. Then her eyes widen and she says, “You weren’t an imperial pilot, right?”

Luke chuckles. “Nope, I’m all—how did you put it? Flair and passion, self-taught.”

“Then it’s meant to be!” Denic beams at Luke. His smile softens and he nods.

Bodhi clears his throat, but his lips twitch in a quick smile. “Let’s uh—let’s have a look at all the scrap lying around, maybe you’ll find something in good enough shape for you to, uh— _make use of_ ,” he says and puts an arm around Luke to walk him towards the nearest stack of boxes. Luke told Bodhi to keep his mission to build a lightsaber a secret, which also had to include Bodhi’s family (“I love them, but they’re all incurable gossips, so it’s safer that way,” he told Luke).

“Have fun, boys,” she says, waving an oil-smeared piece of cloth at them.

***

Luke walks out of the Garage with a box of small parts.

“Are you sure this trash can be used for a lightsaber?” Bodhi asks, still not convinced even though Luke insisted it was all perfectly suitable.

“It’s all about ingenuity and—and—creative flair,” he flashes Bodhi a grin. “Not about expensive or rare materials. My master gave me a long lecture about it. There is a certain humbleness in appreciating common parts and materials,” Luke explains to Bodhi, leaning on the speeder parked on the curb outside the Garage.

Bodhi hums, fiddling with the bike throttle. “Makes sense. But do you think some Jedi liked glittery things so much that they made their lightsabers from gold and diamonds?” He sits down on the speeder seat and gestures at Luke to sit behind him.

“Chirrut, K’Asia, and Ramu all collectively told me the Jedi were assholes, so probably more than one did that?” he muses. “I read that it used to be a matter of personal taste, so I guess it wasn’t explicitly forbidden.”

Bodhi shrugs and turns on the speeder. The engine’s whine drowns out all other street noises and they both hop onto the seat. Luke hugs Bodhi tightly as the vehicle starts to slowly lumber on through the busy alleyways until they reach the downward zig-zag of speeder driveway from the city’s mesa to go into the open desert. It’s just past noon and the open view in front of them makes Luke both excited and nervous. Somewhere out there, there’s a kyber crystal that will sing out just for _him_. He clings to Bodhi’s back and breathes in deeply.

“Ready to face the desert?” Bodhi turns his head back to Luke.

“Ride on,” Luke says.

“Yes, sir, Mr Jedi, sir.” Bodhi nods gravely and Luke smacks him gently on the side, laughing.

The ride through the open sands is much different on a speeder than it was in the shuttle high in the skies. The cold wind mercilessly whacks Luke from all sides, so he stays flush against Bodhi’s back, trying not to move too much. If it hadn’t been for all the layers he’s got on—jacket, poncho, scarf—he’d definitely end up with a nasty cold.

As they drive on, three motionless figures appear on the horizon and the closer they get, the more they resemble people. As the speeder draws near, Luke can discern the hooded figures of stone have some facial features carved out, albeit softened due to old age.

“The Three Faces,” Bodhi says, as he stops the speeder right between them. “Although there’s not much of their actual faces to be seen anymore.”

“No, but—there is a certain presence to this place, I can’t really—it’s a very odd feeling,” Luke whispers to Bodhi, as though afraid to speak in a normal voice.

“Good odd or bad odd?” asks Bodhi, twining their fingers together. The only sound out here is the faint rumble of the idle repulsors, but more amplified in their ears by the quietness of the open desert.

“Neither,” Luke says, haltingly. “I feel,” he pauses, licking his lips and looking for the right word, “exposed.”

“Uh-huh, let’s go,” Bodhi says, shivering in Luke’s arms. They leave the figures behind them in a cloud of dust.

About an hour later, an imposing rock structure appears on the horizon. At the base, there’s a carved out entrance, almost insignificantly tiny when compared to the rest of it. Luke is awed by the sight and the feeling only gets stronger, the closer they are.

When Bodhi parks the speeder in front of the entrance—now clearly a few metres tall—Luke dismounts the vehicle and approaches the sandstone wall. He touches the smooth, yet coarse surface and almost recoils at the coolness of it. He should have expected it wouldn’t be warmed from hours of scorching hot suns beating down on it and yet he is fooled for a moment. Bodhi takes his hand and Luke steps into the Catacombs, his other hand trailing behind him over the stone surface.

***

They wander into the dim space and Bodhi switches on his flashlight. Inside, there’s a spacious chamber with walls lined with vessels shaped like urns. The two men halt in the middle of the space and Luke’s suddenly overcome with a profound sense of presence, much different from the feeling of being watched at the Three Faces.

“From this moment I step into my next,’ he whispers softly into the darkness. ‘From this place I step into my next. From this life I step into my next.”

He glances at Bodhi who sighs and nods. “For I am one with the Force, for ever and for ever,” Bodhi finishes the prayer. Luke tightens the hold on his hand.

They exit the first cavern and wander for a bit in the meandering corridors of the Catacombs. Luke’s excitement from before has waned significantly and now he’s in a much more somber mood. This place feels sacred, despite the more utilitarian function it has served in the recent years. People’s remains have been here for a much longer time than the storage has been lying around. Next to him, Bodhi appears rather subdued as well.

They walk past stacks of crates strewn somewhat haphazardly along the corridors and when they reach another roomy cavern, Luke gasps, squeezing Bodhi’s hand. The flashlight illuminates rows of stacked crystals and the light reflected from them refracts and dances on the walls as it breaks into different hues.

Luke lets go of Bodhi’s hand and wanders between the rows, touching the crystals every few steps. They’re supposed to alight with a different color in the hand of their destined owner, but none of them has changed their hue yet. Bodhi doesn’t follow Luke into the crystal maze, clearly sensing that this is something that the Jedi has to do on his own.

Luke stifles a pang of impatience as he continues walking along the rows, hearing in his head Yoda’s chastisement of his hot-headedness. He was afraid of this moment, knowing it would make him face the inevitability of leaving Jedha, but now he’s impatient to finally touch the kyber shard and watch it glow with a new color. His excitement returns and his heart starts beating faster as he gets further into the maze. He left Bodhi with the flashlight, knowing he wouldn’t need it to find the right crystal without worrying about getting lost—the faint glow of the flashlight illuminates the spaces between the crystals enough for Luke to easily navigate the narrow path once he’ll need to return. So he walks and walks, hoping he’s getting closer.

As he turns another corner, Luke hears a faint hum coming from a cluster of crystals near the ground level. He crouches, his heart hammering in his chest now, and locates the source of the sound. _The Force is with me,_ he thinks. Luke puts out his flesh hand towards the crystal, closes his palm over it, and watches it _glow_ with soft green light. The shard breaks off from the cluster with a hollow crunch and the hum lowers in pitch.

He wanders out of the maze with the shard lighting the way and casting a green hue all around him. Bodhi is sitting down on the ground, cross-legged, and raises his head at the sound of Luke’s footsteps. He beams and Luke answers with a broad grin, holding up the small crystal.

“I’ve never seen one glow like this,” Bodhi whispers reverently, his hand hovering over the shard in Luke’s palm. “I hauled all of this here and none of them ever did this.”

“The light comes from the bond with a Force user, so—yeah,” Luke remarks and locks his gaze with Bodhi’s. He kisses him, but quickly withdraws, almost instantly overwhelmed with guilt and anguish because soon he’s going to leave and—

“What’s wrong?” Bodhi says softly and Luke feels him touch his arm. He opens his eyes and looks at Bodhi, taking in his features awash in the green light.

“Nothing, I—” Luke stammers and squeezes his eyes shut, as though trying to steel himself to face reality. Then he feels being enveloped in an embrace, Bodhi’s warmth seeping into him.

“Bodhi, I—” Luke begins and feels wetness on his cheeks. His vision blurs slightly. “I’m going to leave soon and—I never expected—I never even _dreamed_ —I could have this with you—and I want you to know I—” he sniffles, interrupting his babble, now clutching at Bodhi and squeezing him tightly, “I care about you, so very, very—”

Bodhi’s sudden movement interrupts Luke’s stream of words. He puts some space between them and frames Luke’s face with his hands, gazing at him intently. There’s also wetness on his cheeks, glinting with greenish sparks. “I love you, Luke Skywalker,” he says quickly. “I love you,” he repeats, nodding. “And I’m going with you. If you’ll have me, that is.”

“I lo— _what_ ,” Luke’s thoughts grind into a halt. His eyes widen comically and he shakes his head. “Of course I’ll have you. _Stars_ , Bodhi, I love you, too,” Luke lets out and adds, “I never thought—” He shakes his head one more time and kisses Bodhi’s palm.

Bodhi closes the distance between them again and this time the kiss goes on uninterrupted, both men savoring the closeness with renewed intensity, but it remains just that—a celebration and a promise of something more.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to leave Jedha,” Luke whispers when they part.

“I thought so too,” Bodhi admits. “But I want to help make it right for others like us. Like Jedha.” He kisses Luke’s cheek. “And I want to be with you up there, among the stars.”

After a good while, they leave the Catacombs the same way they entered—hand in hand. But they are both changed and Luke’s heart sings in unison with the kyber in the jacket pocket over his heart.

***

Back in his quarters at the Temple, Luke is poring over the heap of materials from Denic’s Garage, testing out different combinations around the kyber core. Before their confession in the Catacombs, he had been sure this moment would be a bitter obligation instead of celebration of his skill and training. Now his heart soars at the thought of having Bodhi at his side when he flies away from Jedha. They won’t both fit in the X-wing, so he’s going to request a transport and let Artoo fly his X-wing back to the _Redemption_.

Luke tinkers with the parts some more, but at one point he feels that the combination is just _right_. He levitates the finished lightsaber hilt, closing his eyes and reaching out with the Force to each part, affirmed in the overwhelming sense of rightness. He takes it in his right hand and the blade ignites. Luke combined a pressure grip with a locking activator, inspired by descriptions of combat techniques involving lightsabers used as throw weapons. He tries out a few moves, wary of the close proximity to various objects in the room. He deactivates the blade and puts down the new hilt, proud with his work.

***

When he talks to Leia over a transceiver call about arranging a transport for him and a new soul willing to join, he also tells her about the need to establish a rebel outpost here on Jedha.

“Good timing, we’ve hit a major milestone with the search for Han. We’ll send someone over to pick you up in a week,” she says to him over the transceiver. “I‘ll talk to higher command about Jedha. Can’t wait to have you back with us, Luke.”

“Thanks, Leia,” Luke replies. “Likewise.”

***

Bodhi and Luke have a few days just to themselves before the transport will pick them up, so they enjoy their remaining time on Jedha to the fullest. Bodhi’s resolve doesn’t waver, but he sometimes admits he’s worried about Denic and Ahm, although Denic assured Bodhi she’ll take care of them as she’s much younger than Ahm.

“She told me that the worst case scenario is she’d take over the supplies business and temporarily close shop,” Bodhi says one afternoon over a cup of chav tea.

Luke reaches out over the table and caresses Bodhi’s palm. “I have a feeling they both will be fine.”

Bodhi smiles and says, “That’s reassuring, actually.”

***

In the next few days, Luke manages to spar with Chirrut and Baze—not at the same time—finally besting them both. He knows he’ll miss them, but something tells him, this is not the last he’ll see of them. 

He’ll also miss K’asia and Ramu—especially their long conversations over breakfast and good natured bickering over the nature of the Jedi Order.

It’s the last of these mornings for now and all three of them are hunched over hot porridge.

“Someone has to stay here to keep things in check,” K’asia says, waiting for their meal to cool a bit. “Did you tell your contact about helping us out?”

“I did,” Luke nods and thinks back to the other day when he went with Baze and Chirrut to meet with a City Council official to talk over some practicalities of establishing a rebel outpost on Jedha. They were cautiously excited and enthusiastic, so it was a good start. “You’re not on your own anymore.”

***

A week from Luke’s call with Leia, he’s sitting in the spaceport hangar with Bodhi waiting for their transport. Luke’s expecting a nondescript shuttle with a mildly excited cargo pilot who got a chance to change their usual supply route, but it’s the _Falcon_ descending into one of the hangar bays.

When the ship lands, Luke sees Lando and Chewie through the cockpit viewport in the pilot and co-pilot’s seats. As the ramp lowers onto the duracrete, it’s Leia who waves at Luke and Bodhi when she sees them on the bench across the bay. Lando and Chewie soon join her down at the ramp.

They come up to the _Falcon_ crew, walking hand-in-hand. Luke introduces them and both Lando and Leia shake Bodhi’s hand, while Chewie envelops him in a furry hug. Luke failed to mention who the soon-to-be rebel is to him during the brief transceiver call the week before, but all three of them are quick on the uptake. Leia is smiling broadly at them both, eyes glinting with joy.

“Ready to join the Alliance?” she says to Bodhi.

Bodhi looks over to Luke, they lock eyes for a moment and then both smile.

“Let’s do this,” he replies and they all go up to the _Falcon_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments mean the world to me ❤️ Find me on [tumblr](https://deepfriedbread.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/witnessmeme).
> 
> Some background info & links:
> 
> \- _The Collected Poems, Prayers, and Meditations on the Force_ are from the GFFA canon book _The Guardians of the Whills_ by Greg Rucka. Highly recommended!  
> \- The Jedha City layout is based on the book and what I remember from the movie, but there’s not that much detail there, so I took a lot of liberties and straight up made up some of that, especially the interiors of buildings, including the Catacombs.  
> \- The Temple of the Kyber is a multipurpose sort of place—a place of worship primarily but also an archive of various writings on the Force, e.g., philosophy, poetry, prose, etc. Like a specialised library of Alexandria of the GFFA that’s also a temple and cultural/social centre. And when it comes to the layout, I have no idea what a place like this could look like inside, but I suppose that if such a thousands-years-old temple existed IRL, it’d be a collection of rooms and corridors remade over the centuries so that’s it’s a kind of an organised mess.  
> \- [CZ-1 tutor droid](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/CZ-1_\(tutor_droid\))  
> \- [The Redemption](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Redemption)  
> \- If you want a visual for the rug-like poncho, here's this absolute [masterpiece](https://64.media.tumblr.com/9417e62ae7075619e9a36c988446e262/aa7af03bdb3226ef-71/s500x750/18d9ab575af29b45c2595efdf9246e79a3b002fb.png) by [missMHO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missMHO).  
> \- [Here are both of the ponchos Luke gets to wear in this story](https://www.artstation.com/artwork/A91O9N), the new one is #5 [here](https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/024/232/336/4k/jordan-lamarre-wan-cal-poncho-western-lineup.jpg?1581734224).  
> \- _The Code of the Sith_ is also from The Guardians of the Whills  
> \- _The Jedha Book of Haiku_ is basically a GFFA version of _The Penguin Book of Haiku_. I like to think that the Temple activities also included archivist-related stuff, so another disciple (like the one who edited the Collected Poems...) collected haikus from various authors in the Galaxy and put them in an anthology. I also like to think that haikus are a thing in the GFFA!  
> \- “This is what happens when farm-boys get adventurous.” Please imagine Luke making the face Antoni makes [here](https://andalus88.tumblr.com/post/621506860477022208/white-people-and-peppers-part-2-literally-antoni).  
> \- [Tip-yips](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Tip-yip)  
> \- [More stories about wild things in manuscript margins](https://www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/unusual-things-found-in-medieval-manuscripts/)  
> \- [Calculating the light speed flight durations](https://www.swcombine.com/navcomp/index.php)  
> \- [Red gourd soup, ](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Red_gourd_soup)[Meiloorun fruit](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Meiloorun_fruit) (I think of it as a bigger passion fruit so they are eating it like you'd eat fresh passion fruits)  
> \- Eno Cordova and Zeffo culture come from the Jedi Fallen Order game


End file.
